


The Coat

by RaeNonnyNonny



Series: Assorted Striketober 2020 [10]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Cormoran Strike's enormous coat, Drabble, F/M, On a stakeout, Robin Ellacott's Landrover, Strike is a gentleman, Time for the pub, fond pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny
Summary: Three Striketober prompts in one. 23 Are you warm enough? + 24 What time is it? + 25 how long was I asleep? + 26 Do you want me to stop?Just a quick drabble I've bashed out in my lunch hour. No particular spoilers unless you've only read Cuckoo's Calling maybe.Dedicated to all those who love Strike's coat and all men who wear similar. (Call me)
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Assorted Striketober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165961
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39
Collections: Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020





	The Coat

Robin’s eyes fluttered open in the now dark but sodium streetlight-bathed Landrover. As her eyes focussed, she noticed she could see Strike’s breath as he turned towards her.

“How long was I asleep?”

Strike huffed a languid stream of smoke out of the window. “Long enough for one cigarette. Feel better?”

Robin nodded, rubbed her eyes and stretched, wiggling her fingers. “What time is it? Maybe we should find that pub.”

“Good idea.” He stubbed out his fag and they clambered out of the vehicle.

“Are you warm enough?” Strike asked, already taking off his trademark coat to drape around Robin, who had involuntarily shivered for all of half a second.

Robin smiled, amused.

“This always happens. I forget my scarf, and you always end up insisting on wrapping me in your coat.”

“Sorry. I know it probably smells like an ashtray.”

“No, it’s good”, Robin chuckled fondly, unconsciously echoing one of Strike’s trademark phrases. “It’s sweet. I just mean... you don’t have to.” She felt silly for even saying anything.

Strike, now serious, directed his piercing radar-searching look towards her face.

“Do you want me to stop?”

There was a silence.

“No.” said Robin, staring determinedly at her shoes.


End file.
